


The Hamlet's distractions

by PaulFontaine



Category: HIT: Heroes of Incredible Tales (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Non-Consensual Spanking, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:26:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22808587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaulFontaine/pseuds/PaulFontaine
Summary: Back from a dangerous quest that saw one of them killed, three heroes try to unwind in any way they can.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	The Hamlet's distractions

The return was silent, and grim. Before soon, the hamlet was back in sight, with the horrors of the woods behind them.  
Stiff, they all walked toward the grinning man. His grin grew wider and a little more insane when he counted them, but he was polite enough to not comment on how the sinister but resolute grave robber was now resting with the worms.  
His gaze went to the temporary leader of the party, a man clad in a heavy plate armor, dirtied, bloodied, and rusty, with many scars of past battles, and he waited. After a few pained gasps, the man caught enough of his breath to speak.  
"The... The troll is no more." Behind him, the witch and the archer shivered as they heard him. The witch's small hand squeezed her staff, while the archer uneasily looked behind her, her eyes turned toward the woods, her hands shaking as well.  
The grinning man looked at them. The soldier was staring at his feet, not even noticing his own wounds, despite the noise of thick blood dripping against his armor, one drop after another. The little witch, so bubbly and enthusiast, was now staring at her staff, tears swelling in her eyes, probably replaying the fight in her head, and thinking she could've saved the grave robber. The archer, who was previously smiling and talkative about local wild lives, and overprotective toward the witch, tried her best to appear calm, but she never had her back to the woods, and her good hand was constantly on her dagger, while her other hand, missing a few fingers, was barely good enough to hold her bow.  
"Take some rest. You need it." A short appraisal, and a request, rather than an order. He expected at least one of them to flee during the night. Maybe two, if the witch could convince the archer, or the opposite. The soldier would stay, though. His strong sense of justice wouldn't let him run away, especially with horrors like that troll ready to attack the village.  
"Thank you. I think I'll go eat. Eat, and sleep. Sleep a lot." The archer spoke nervously, feeling relieved about being surrounded by stone walls for once. They were shackles before, they were protection now.  
"I'll go to the special bathhouse." The soldier said in a short breath, doing his best to hide the fear in his face, as he made his way toward the brothel. Soon, a small measure of comfort would remind him what he's fighting for.  
"I will..." The witch hesitated, and looked around. Already, the grinning man had returned to the caretaker's office, the archer left for the inn, and the fighter was almost out of sight. Panicked at the idea of being left alone, she followed the soldier.

The hamlet's bathhouse served as both a bathhouse, and a brothel. It was unavoidable, most of the male villagers got killed trying to work outside of the village, so the widows and orphans had to put bread on the table somehow. Most of the time, that meant servicing the passing adventurers, some of them even poorer than the villagers, polishing or repairing armors, cleaning weapons, or providing more physical relief.  
Not that the witch knew that. Her unnatural talent for destruction and death was enough to make most people uneasy, and this was emphasized by her small frame. While she couldn't pass as human because of her pointed ears, she could easy pass as a child, and in fact, was extremely close in mindset to one. A child that could annihilate an entire building with a pout, but a child nonetheless, no less resistant to the horrors of the forest than anyone else.  
As she entered the brothel, she was immediately noticed. A woman, no, a girl, who couldn't be twenty, saw her, and came toward her.  
"Hello, are you lost?"  
The witch looked around, but already the fighter was out of sight. "I... I was with someone, but he-"  
"Yes, we know him. He's a regular." The girl cut the younger witch short. "Why are you here?"  
The witch's answer was short, angry, and very rude.  
The girl just nodded with a patient smile. "We provide services. Comfort, baths, and some company." Then, looking at the much smaller witch, she got an idea. "Would you like to try?"  
The witch nodded.

The witch waited.  
Her coat and her staff were in a corner of the small, dirty room, while she herself was sitting on a chair, looking at the bed. As much as possible, she didn't want to sit on it, her skirt was too short and she didn't want to feel the rough fabric against her bare skin.  
After what felt like hours to the bored child, the prostitute entered the room, carrying a tray, and, with a smile, apologized for the wait, before closing the door behind it. The elf stood up, took a look at what she's been carried, and got very confused when she saw it was but a bowl of lukewarm water, a sponge, a hairbrush, and a small towel.  
"What's that?" She asked, turning around.  
"That's the service," the prostitute answered, staring intensely at the smaller elf.  
With her coat and her staff, the little girl was a lot more imposing, and really gave off a threatening aura, but without them, it became painfully aware of how lean she actually was... and how short her purple dress was. It perfectly covered the girl's upper body, even hiding most of her neck and hands with a thick collar and long sleeves, and yet the lower part stopped very early, barely hiding the girl's thighs. Actually, was that dress long enough to hide her panties, or would they be visible if she were to bend over? Was it why her coat was so big?  
"Right." The prostitute sat over the bed, used to the rough cloth, and point at her lap. "For my service, you need to get over my lap."  
The elf looked at the young woman with skeptical eyes, but obeyed nonetheless. Feeling her arms and legs dangling in that vulnerable position, she felt extremely embarrassed, and finally asked. "This isn't a bath house, right?"  
"Not exactly, no." In an instant, the prostitute lowered the witch's panties, lowering them to her knees, but before the indignant elf could react, the sponge has been drenched in lukewarm water, gently pressed, and was resting on her butt. "We provide comfort."  
"Mmm... What an odd kind of comfort, but I don't dislike it." The witch agreed, the water being a bit too hot for her tastes, but the feeling of the sponge rubbing her naked butt wasn't lost on her.  
"Oh, this isn't all. For your behavior earlier, I have something else planned." The sponge was drenched in water again, for another rubbing, leaving the elf's butt drenched. "You see, we offer comfort to adults."  
The witch felt the change in tone, and raised her head, just in time to see the young woman put the sponge down, and grab the hairbrush. "Wait a minute, you..."  
"For little brats, we only offer a good spanking!"  
The hairbrush raised, and came down.  
And the elf, despite never getting spanked before in her relatively long life, immediately understood the point of the earlier cleansing.  
And she struggled, kicked, screamed.  
But the woman was stronger than her, and the reaction only angered more, leading to another immediate smack. And another. And another.  
Screams turned to shrieks, then to begging, then to sobs, and finally, to just half-hearted cries as the hairbrush spanked, and spanked, and spanked.  
All too soon, the witch's pale butt became pink, then red, and finally scarlet, the marks of the hairbrush covering the two butt cheeks, overlapping each others, with just an occasional twitch as the little brat cried.  
She was so focused on her own pain, she barely felt the spanking ended, and didn't paid attention to the prostitute putting the hairbrush back, and grabbing the towel, that she dropped on the elf's butt, absorbing the water, sweat, and some of the heat.

That night was troubled for many people in the hamlet.  
The fighter had a troubled night, despite the relief that the prostitutes gave him, the archer couldn't sleep at all, jumping at the slightest noise.  
As for the witch, well, she spent a few minutes crying to herself, laying on her belly, wearing only a nightgown, and rubbing her red butt, but thankfully, sleep came soon enough, perhaps as a mercy after witnessing her only friend getting swallowed whole. Had the elf not visited the brothel, she would have been unable to have an enjoyable sleep, and, upon closing her eyes, would be cursed with the vision of the grave robber's legs still kicking, a muffled, horrified scream still audible despite being already in the troll's mouth. Instead, after the severe, yet non-mutilating punishment she received earlier in the evening, she managed to sleep her stress away.  
The grave robber's horrible death would still be a terrible memory, but the little girl would manage to recover her bubbly, if obnoxious temperament, after burning down a manpig lair.  
As for the prostitute, well, she would enjoy her new role a few more times, until the witch wizened up, and decided that getting spanked wasn't worth trying to get respect from the prostitutes.

**Author's Note:**

> Extremely inspired by the RNG simulator Darkest Dungeons, yet taking too many liberties for me to add it as a fandom.  
> Special thanks to the Anons of 4chan and a few friends who helped me write this.


End file.
